


Situational Ethics

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Crossovers: xfiles, Humor, M/M, None - Freeform, other pairing - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 03:29:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Blair recieves a surprising phone call, Mulder meets his tragic fate, Krycek wears leather and handcuffs, and Jim is barely mentioned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Situational Ethics

## 

Situational Ethics

by Meredith Lynne

Author's homepage: <http://www.trickster.org/radiofree/>

Notes: This is not a story in the sense of having a beginning, a middle, and an end, but neither is it a work in progress. It just exists in an eternally undefined state of linear unendingness. 

Disclaimer: I put absolutely nothing into this beyond a rather sick sense of humor and a desire to have Krycek wink at Blair. It has not been beta'd, because I'm ashamed to show it to any of my friends. It's part of my Patented Writer's Block therapy which involves giving one's self permission to write *badly*. If you're looking for anything like plot, coherence, characterization, skill, or quality, you've come to the wrong place. Ah, go ahead, read it anyway. It's short, it won't bite you. It's a situation that goes nowhere, kind of like many of my dates recently, a viciously improbable moment of potential silliness with intent to amuse. 

For the love of God, Nita, don't archive! (Archivist note: She later changed her mind. *grin*) 

* * *

Situational Ethics  
by Merry Lynne 

"May I speak to Dr. Sandburg?" 

"Not for another three years, at least." 

"Excuse me?" 

Blair grinned into the phone for his own benefit. "Sorry. I'm not Dr. Sandburg yet. What can I do for you?" 

"My apologies, Mr. Sandburg. I'm calling in response to the notice on your website--" 

"Oh, hey, thanks, man, but I already sold the Star Trek episodes. Sent 'em off last week." 

"That's not -- hey, they weren't first run, first generation, were they?" 

"Nah. Before my time." 

A weary sigh filtered through the receiver. "I'm *old*." 

"Don't feel bad. When I'm your age, I'll be old, too." 

This time the silence was -- silent, for a moment. Then, in a rather less friendly tone: "It's the other ad I'm referring to, Mr. Sandburg. The one about heightened senses." 

Blair leaned forward, nearly biting his tongue off when the front legs of his chair hit the floor. "Tell me what you're experiencing," he babbled, tossing papers off his desk. He knew there was a legal pad under there somewhere. 

"Confusion." 

"That's normal," he soothed. "YES!" The legal pad had a pen under it. And he'd just shouted into the ear of a potential sentinel. "You still there? Hello?" 

"I'm here." 

"Sorry. Confusion is normal." 

"You don't know the half of it." 

"How many senses are affected, Mr....?" 

Another silence. "Do I have to give you my name?" 

"No, but I'm gonna feel pretty stupid calling you 'Mister' and it's not going to help you feeling like a geezer." 

"My name's Mulder. And it's not me." 

"Fine, fine, assumed name, I can work around that. We've got forms for that --" 

"No, I mean, I'm not the one with the heightened senses. I have this fr...there's this guy, here. He got locked in a missile silo for a couple weeks and when I went to get him out he was nuts. When he's not screaming, he's making like a gardenburger. You said you knew something about the affects of long-term isolation on certain people, something about sensory hallucinations...?" 

"I never said hallucinations," Blair said defensively. Or if he had, man, he needed to get that off the internet. Jim would kill him, he'd have him for breakfast, he'd sprinkle sugar on him and eat him like a donut. On second thought, maybe he'd leave it there. 

"I'd like to meet with you." 

Blair paused. He wasn't a stupid man. He watched Law and Order five times a week; he knew how to stay out of trouble. "You want me to meet with you. Listen, no offense, but you seem to have locked at least one guy in a missile silo by your own admission. You don't want to meet me in an abandoned warehouse or anything, do you? I have to tell you up front, I have friends on the Force." 

A wave of disgust radiated from the quiet at the end of the line. "We can meet in your office, if that's all right." Mulder said carefully. "I'm right downstairs." 

"And your guy, he's with you?" 

"He is." 

"I take it he's contemplating his navel or something? I mean, if he were screaming and you were right downstairs, I'd hear it, and I'm not even a s--" 

"A what?" 

"A guy with really good hearing. Listen, don't come up, okay? I'll come down. I don't want you dragging him through the halls. Not that he wouldn't fit in, half the freshmen here are zombies and they don't have his excuse." 

"Fine. We're right in front of the doors to your building, Mr. Sandburg, in a dark blue Land Rover." 

"Check it. I'll be right down." 

~ ~ ~ 

"I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI, and this man is my prisoner." 

Blair looked from one man to the other. The taller one was wearing a sweatshirt with a hole under the right arm, blue jeans, and a blue baseball cap with a picture of Elvis on the front. The other was in a black leather jacket, black jeans, and 5'oclock shadow. His right hand was cuffed to Mulder's left. Blair shook his head, and grinned. 

"That's got to be the kinkiest thing I've ever heard anybody say out loud," he said. 

The leather guy threw back his head and laughed while Mulder turned bright pink to the roots of his hair. The look on his face was something between abject fury and mortal humiliation. "I'd show you my badge," he grated out, "but it's in my back pocket. My left back pocket." 

"Oh, hey, I'll get it out for you, Mulder," the other guy said. He was grinning like a kid on a roller coaster for the first time, utter unholy glee. He certainly wasn't zoned out. "All ya had to do was ask." 

Blair laughed, and held up his hands. "No, seriously, it's ok. You've got Fed written all over you, Agent Mulder." 

He hadn't thought the guy could look any more offended. "Can we cut to the chase?" the agent snapped. "I'm on a schedule here." 

"Well, you're going to have to trash it. Sorry, but this kind of thing doesn't work on a schedule. Mr, um." He looked at the prisoner. 

"Krycek. Alex Krycek." 

"Alex. See that sign over there on the Union building? Right by the door? What's that say?" 

"'Jim Ellison has a--'" 

"The plaque, if you don't mind." 

"The grafitti was more interesting," Krycek said apologetically. 

"And this is going where?" Mulder stepped closer to Blair, looking back in annoyance when Krycek didn't move. He jerked hard on the chain binding them, and Krycek fell a few steps closer. 

"Agent Mulder, he shouldn't have been able to read that. Can you read that? I guarantee you, it's there." 

"I can't even see the words, let alone read them. How do you know what it says?" 

Blair blushed. "That's not really relevant. The point is, he could read it and you and I can't and I don't know about you, but my prescription's just fine. You have on your hands a guy who can see a really long way, and I bet he can hear pretty good, too." 

"I could hear your heartbeat over the phone," Alex supplied. 

"See? That's two out of five. I need to run some tests, but my friend, you seem to be well on your way to having a pet sentinel of your very own. I have some notes on care and feeding--" 

"Oh, no. He's not mine. He's going to jail." 

Blair's eyes widened. "You can't send a man like that to jail! Jesus. Look at him! He's a pussycat. Besides, he's genetically predisposed to protect those around him." 

This time it was the agent who burst into laughter, the young, sharp-faced prisoner who scowled. When Mulder didn't seem to be winding down, Alex used his left hand to punch the guy in the arm. 

"Look," Mulder said, wiping tears from his eyes. "Can't I just shoot him?" 

"No!" 

"Why not? He's obviously not an asset to society, he spends half his time drooling blank-faced at a wall, and three times today he's spontaneously stripped himself naked and stared yelling." 

"Yeah? Well, welcome to the life of a Guide, Agent Mulder. The hours are lousy and the pay's for shit, but on the bright side, you get to work your ass off daily in the service of people who don't appreciate you." His eyes narrowed. "It's not at all unlike Academia." 

"What if I just drowned him in that fountain over there?" 

"That kind of thing never takes," Blair said with authority. 

"I'm extremely persistent," Mulder said. "It's noted in my personnel file." 

"Look," Blair said. He caught a pleading glance from the criminal. He certainly didn't *look* like a criminal. Honestly, he was kind of cute. While his eyes were on Blair's, Krycek gave a little wink. Blair grinned. "Look," he said again. "You can't kill him." 

"Give me one good reason." 

"Karma, man. You kill him, and your souls will be forever bound together like chords in an endless repeating riff of hatred, agony, and murder." 

Mulder blinked. "I think that's already happened." 

Blair blinked back. "That was my ace in the hole." 

"Mulder!" Alex snapped out. 

The agent sighed. "Skinner would have my ass for breakfast." 

"And he'd videotape it," Alex nodded emphatically. "He'd send it to MUFON. They'd get a thrill." 

Blair looked at Mulder. And looked at him. And looked at him. A light went on in one of the darker corners of his mind, one of those corners you sweep stuff into because you know nobody will ever look there. "Mulder," he said. 

"What?" 

"I know you! MULDER! You're the guy -- I've seen *you* on the internet!" 

Krycek grinned. "Here we go." 

"You're the guy who thinks ET phoned the government! Man, the Lone Gunmen are all *over* you. They run Spooky Mulder's Greatest Hits at least four times a year. I read about that thing with the Evil Tree People down in Florida--" 

"You. Know... the Gunmen?" 

"Yeah, Langley and I were undergrads together! Of course, I was majoring in anthropology and he was doubling up with comparative religions and AD&D, but our minors overlapped." Blair grinned. "I'm in the presence of greatness." 

"This is hell," Mulder said. "Funny. The sign said Cascade." 

* * *

End Situational Ethics.


End file.
